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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218206">Shattered Stiles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/effected/pseuds/effected'>effected</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Recovering Stiles Stilinski, Recovery, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/effected/pseuds/effected</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski has always been the funny, easy-going friend that doesn't seem phased by anything. That couldn't be farther from the truth. He's never truly been okay, and things only got worse after the Nogitsune. He can never seem to escape his past, but can his so-called friends save him before it's too late?</p><p>---</p><p>originally posted on wattpad!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles's POV<br/>
I wake up with a start. I see Scott standing over my trying to calm me down. After a few seconds of confusion I realize a few things: I'm on the couch in Derek's loft, I had a panic attack before that I must of passed out from before...Oh gods. Now they know I'm not doing good.<br/>
"Dude, you okay? You passed out before from a panic attack."<br/>
I sit all the way up and then say, "Yeah, I'm fine. I think. I didn't lose a limb or anything while I was out did I?" I get a light chuckle out of Scott. Good. He doesn't need to know how messed up I really am. "What time is it?" I ask after seeing the sun has gone down quite a bit.<br/>
"About 5:45. That reminds me, your dad is trying to be home by seven and wants you to be there too." Great, Dad knows too.<br/>
"Okay, thanks for the heads up. I should probably get going then." I say as I get up and go to gather my things.<br/>
"Stiles."<br/>
"Yes?" I turn around to see a concerned Scott, one that I hadn't seen since Allison died.<br/>
"You sure you're okay?"<br/>
"Yeah, peachy." And with that I leave.<br/>
When I get home, the first thing I do is go to the bathroom and throw up. It's what usually happens after a panic attack like that, and I can only hold it in for so long. As I wash off, I'm very careful not to look in any mirrors in fear of seeing the Nogitsune again. I hear our garage open, realizing my dad is home. I walk down and start to make two cups of coffee while he walks in.<br/>
He sees me and says, "Hey, Stiles."<br/>
"Hi, Dad. You wanted to talk?"<br/>
"Are you okay?"<br/>
Trying to avoid what happened today, I simply say, "What do you mean?"<br/>
"I know about the panic attack, Stiles."<br/>
I started to say something, but then stop and just stare at the floor so I don't have to look at my father's sad smile.<br/>
"Son, I need to know. How long has this been going on?"<br/>
I question if I'm going to tell the truth, but decide against it. "Not long, really. There's only been a few."<br/>
He looks sad, as if he knows I'm not telling the truth but wants to believe me. Not wanting to continue this conversation I say, "I'm actually really tired, it takes a lot out of ya, you know?"<br/>
My dad gives a slight smile and nods, and I can tell his mind is racing back to when I had them after my mom died. I want to stay with him, but sometimes it's better to just be alone. So I race upstairs and hop into bed. A panic attack really does take everything out of you. A few seconds later, I'm fast asleep. </p><p>The next morning I wake up to the sound of my never-ending alarm clock. I slowly roll over and hit the snooze button so I can stay in bed for a few more minutes. I feel like everyday is the same exact thing: wake up-or try to, get to school, spend what feels like an eternity in hell, try to get through the day without having a panic attack, get home, do whatever, and sleep. It’s a never-ending cycle that I can’t seem to get out of.<br/>
I must have fallen asleep again because the next thing I know is my dad trying to wake me up.<br/>
“Okay, okay,” I start, “I’m up, I’m up!”<br/>
“Just making sure, son,” he replies. “Get ready, you have to leave in a half hour.”<br/>
“I got it,” I mumble. Although I was barely audible, my dad seems to have heard it and just frowns at me before leaving.<br/>
After around 20 minutes, I go downstairs to where my dad is drinking some coffee. “Want anything to eat?”<br/>
“No thanks. I still don’t feel good from yesterday,” I make up, just to have an excuse. Truth is, I’ve always had a really low self-esteem and it’s been getting worse since the Nogistune. And anyways, anything I eat ends up being thrown up after my near-daily panic attacks anyways.<br/>
“Okay,” my dad says hesitantly. “Oh, before I forget, I have night shift again so I won’t be home until late.”<br/>
I sigh, he almost always has night shift so I rarely see him after school or in the morning due to him sleeping. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go now, so see you when I do,” I say, right before I walk out the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TRIGGER WARNING<br/>descriptions of self harm</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles's POV<br/>I get to school and the first thing I see is Scott talking to Kira. Great, this is going to end up being just like Allison with Scott spending all his time with her and the useless best friend being left to the side. I guess I deserve it though. If I had been a better friend and not killed Allison maybe Scott could actually stand me now. <br/>I put my hood up and walk as fast as I can around Scott, hoping he doesn't notice me, and of course, he doesn't. I put all my things in the locker and go sit down in my first class, math. There are only a few other people in the class so I just look down and start twiddling with my fingers.<br/>After a few minutes, I hear the door open again and look up to see, no, no, not again. This can't be happening right now. The Nogistune is at the front of the class writing the backwards five on the whiteboard. I look down at my hands again and start counting, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..and ten. It's real. He's really here. I feel my breath starting to quicken as a panic attack is coming. <br/>I immediately sprint out of the room and run into the bathroom, where I lock the door and fall onto the floor. I try and try but can't seem to slow my breathing. <br/>I need something to take my mind off it. Before, it was Lydia, but she hates me now; her best friend and boyfriend are dead because of me. Usually, I can use a small razor or something to bring me back from the edge but I left my backpack in math. <br/>I look around for something to use as I slowly feel myself about to pass out from lack of oxygen. At the last minute, I take my shaking hand and punch the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. With one of those, I slowly drag it against my wrist, not deep or long enough to kill me, but enough to make me feel something else.  <br/>My breathing starts to slow down as my wrist burns and crimson red drips down onto the floor. God, what has my life come to?  I sit back down on the floor with my back against a wall, not wanting to risk anyone seeing me like this. After first period is halfway through, I slowly unlock the door and sneak out of school, forgetting that I left my backpack in class. </p><p>Malia's POV<br/>I walk into math, my least favorite class, expecting to see Stiles sitting in his seat, cheerful as ever. However, all I see is his backpack next to his seat and him nowhere to be found. He's probably just in the bathroom or something. <br/>I don't think much of it and continue on talking with other people until the teacher walks in and Stiles is still nowhere to be seen. <br/>The entire class goes by and I still can't find Stiles. During the passing period, I go and ask Scott, "Have you seen Stiles today?"<br/>"Um, no why?" Scott responds.<br/>"Well he wasn't in math all period but his backpack was."<br/>"Huh, weird. He probably just got sick or something and went home."<br/>"Without his backpack?"<br/>"I don't know, Malia. It's not my job to keep track of him all the time. He knows how to take care of himself." And with that Scott shrugs it off and walks away.<br/>I stop and think, does Scott seriously think about his best friend like that? I mean sure, Stiles is perfectly capable of protecting himself, but he is way too busy trying to take care of everyone else. <br/>The warning bell then rings and I sigh, walking to my next class. As I pass the bathrooms, I see broken shards of glass being cleaned up by the janitor as well as, blood? A student is talking to the principal and I assume that he's the one who did it, but I don't smell any blood on him. Huh, weird, is all I think before getting to my next class and going on with the day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles's POV<br/>I got out of that school as soon as possible and just started driving, not knowing where I was going. After around 15 minutes, I found myself outside of the woods in a place that I didn't really recognize. <br/>I looked at my shaking hands and realized that my wrist was still bleeding, so I reached into the glove compartment and grabbed out the first aid kid I have stored in there. After wrapping my wrist, I decided to get out of my car and just start walking. I liked walking in the woods; it was calming and I rarely ran into anyone. <br/>However, certain days, like today, being alone wasn't the best thing. It gave the Nogistune the perfect opportunity to talk to me and get into my head. <br/>"Stiles."<br/>I kept walking, not looking at the fox.<br/>"Stiles."<br/>No response.<br/>"You can't ignore me forever."<br/>"Watch me," I respond walking faster, not knowing where I was going. I was trying to get away even though I knew there was no getting away from this.<br/>"Where are your 'friends' Stiles."<br/>"They're at school, where I would be right now if it wasn't for you." I try to be snarky to the fox, but he didn't care and always found new ways to make me suffer.<br/>"Are you sure? Because they're either dead or gone because of you, or simply hate you for what you did."<br/>Damn, he really does know how to get me messed up.<br/>"It's all your fault, Stiles." <br/>I start to tear up, and of course, the Nogistune notices.<br/>"This is all because of you. Allison is dead. Aiden is dead. Ethan couldn't deal looking at the person who killed his twin and had to leave. Isaac is gone because you weren't there for him. Scott hates you for killing his love. Malia hates you for breaking your promise to help her. Kira hates you for revealing the truth about her mother. Argent hates you for killing his daughter. Your dad hates you for killing his wife. This is all because of you. No one else. You."<br/>I try so hard to not listen to the spirit but it's so hard. Everything he's saying is true. I hurt everyone around me. <br/>He keeps talking, keeps getting me weak and I can't take it anymore and just start sprinting away. I've never been good at running but I don't focus on that. I focus on getting away from that goddamned creature. <br/>I keep running and running until I physically can't anymore and my legs give out. I stop. putting my weight on a tree and sitting down with my back against it. <br/>I look around and don't see the Nogistune anywhere. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a few seconds before falling into a much needed sleep. <br/>Derek's POV<br/>Today was the day I decided whether or not to rebuild the house. On the one hand, I could finally move out of the loft but on the other hand I taking apart one of the last things I have left from my family but also be constantly reminded about their deaths every time I'm in my own house. <br/>I feel like I already know my decision but I chose to visit the house nonetheless. I was driving up the road and when I was about a block away, I saw Stiles's jeep parked on the side. <br/>Isn't he supposed to be in school? I found it a bit weird but didn't think much of it as he and Scott don't really care about following rules.  <br/>I continued driving and parked my car, ready to start the long trek up to the house. God, why did they think it would be a good idea to have such a secluded house?<br/>As I was walking through the woods, I smelled something strange and very strong. Like..stress, sadness, guilt, and panic? Jesus what do people do in these woods? <br/>Considering I didn't want to get to the house just yet, I decided to follow the scent. I was walking for five minutes trying to follow this scent and it just kept getting stronger. I haven't smelt something this strong since we were trying to find Stiles at the hospital.<br/>I sure hope this isn't some training thing Scott and Stiles are doing; this is way too strong of a scent to be faked. Then again, it is Stiles. He always finds a way. <br/>I haven't really seen much of Stiles lately. Scott was always around, wanting to train with other wolves but Stiles rarely ever came. I always just assumed it was because he didn't feel like getting his ass kicked and never thought to ask Scott about it.<br/>The last time I saw Stiles was when, when he was having a panic attack. I sniff the chemo signals one more time and it does smell exactly like a panic attack. With that I start to run, scared the poor boy is out here by himself having a panic attack. <br/>After a few more minutes of running, I find Stiles, curled up against a tree, seemingly sleeping. I hear a heartbeat, so he is still alive. I look around but don't see or smell Scott anywhere, meaning Stiles is out here by himself. <br/>Why he's by himself in the middle of the woods, I can't imagine. I can't believe he would ever want to be left alone after what happened. But then again, I only really ever knew the sarcastic, happy side of Stiles, not the broken boy I see in front of me. <br/>He starts shivering and I realize how cold he must be. Being a wolf, I only feel the cold when I focus on it, and damn it is cold. All Stiles is wearing is a long sleeve shirt and jeans so I imagine he is freezing. I don't know how long he's been here so I decide to take him back to the loft.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Derek's POV<br/>I pick up the frail boy and am taken aback by how light he is. He feels like he's a middle school girl. I assume it's because of the Nogistune but make a mental note to feed him later.<br/>I walk back to my car and place the still-sleeping boy in the back seat. I go around to the driver's seat and get in the car. Before starting to drive, I look back at Stiles's small figure and sigh, feeling bad for him and the amount he's had to go through being only a human. <br/>I drive back to the loft, which isn't too long of a drive, and get Stiles from the back seat, bringing him inside. I place him on my bed, knowing he hates my couch, even though no one else knows that. <br/>As I place him down, his sleeve rides up a little and I notice a bandage wrapped around his wrist. I pull his sleeves up and my heart breaks at what I see. His wrist is littered with scars, some seemingly very old and others from days ago. I pull his sleeve back down and exit the room, not knowing what to do . <br/>I walk into the kitchen and start cooking. I rarely ever do it anymore but it helps to calm me down. I ponder whether or not to call Scott, but in the end decide against it as there is probably a reason Stiles was out in the woods by himself instead of attached to Scott’s hip like normal. Although, the more I think about it, Stiles has made himself pretty scarce lately. He only ever comes to pack meetings when it’s really important and even started handing his research off to Lydia or Liam or someone. It makes me wonder what is really going on with him.<br/>Sure, since the whole Nogistune, I haven’t really been there for him or to see what was going on, but before I didn’t have too. Stiles was always coming to me, asking me for help. I didn’t have to see if he needed any. <br/>When he was possessed, well I guess I just got used to the lack of that constant presence, and honestly felt a bit of a relief, even if I did feel bad about it. When Argent said that he was willing to kill Stiles and feel no remorse, I hated myself for thinking the same thing.<br/>Sure, Stiles is great and I respect the hell out of him for managing to stay alive as a human in a world of the supernatural, but Stiles did way more for Scott than he did for me. <br/>But even after the Nogistune, Stiles still never came to me. I assumed it was because of the whole ordeal and didn’t notice that even months later that old presence wasn’t around. I wondered if Scott ever noticed anything. I know Stiles blamed himself for the death of Allison but always thought Scott didn’t. If that’s true, then why wasn’t Scott with Stiles today? He was left alone to suffer in silence.<br/>I also what would have happened if I had been there. If I had chickened out and decided not to go to the house today. Well, whatever would have happened it didn’t. So just focus on trying to deal with the situation at hand. <br/>Stiles’s POV<br/>I woke up, or at least think I did. I was still in the woods, but hours must have passed as the sun in the sky makes it look like it’s at least 4 or 5. I stand up and am hit by an immediate wave of dizziness, probably from the lack of food I’ve been consuming. My vision goes blurry and suddenly I’m on the floor again, only this time in the hospital. <br/>I stand back up, slower this time, and look around. My heart stops as I see people all over the floor clutching various parts of their body, covered in blood. My breathing quickens and I turn around to see the Oni and, me, stabbing and cutting people, innocent people, everywhere. I run towards the double doors then push them open.<br/>And then I’m at Deaton’s and I realize I’m dreaming. Still dreaming. I stare up at the light and just start trying to scream myself awake, like I always have to do. Eventually, all I see is black, and I feel myself falling into an empty abyss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’s POV<br/>My body finally decided to wake up after what seems like hours after my mind and I could finally move, and control my own breathing. It took me a second to calm down after that but I was able to, I have had a lot of practice after all. <br/>I then took in my surroundings and panicked after not realizing where I was. I was in a bed, in a room I didn’t recognize. I immediately stood up, instantly regretting it as a wave of dizziness and ringing in my ears took over. I lay my hand on the nightstand next to the bed to try and steady myself, and after a few seconds, it went away. I then started walking towards the door, stopping only to see the photos laid out on the dresser. I didn’t recognize the people for the most part, but one thing I did recognize. The triskelion. I must be in Derek’s bedroom. Shit, he must have found me passed out in the forest or something. <br/>I instinctively looked down at my wrists, hoping they had not been discovered. Much to my relief, the bandaids on my newer cuts seems to be what I put on earlier. Even though this was good news, I realised that there was almost no chance someone who has been a werewolf their entire life, and an alpha for most of it, didn’t smell the blood, or even by accident ride my shirt up a little.<br/>I prepared myself for what he might say, and started the trek into his kitchen. </p><p>Scott’s POV<br/>I felt bad for what I said to Malia earlier, even if it was true. Even though I knew Stiles could take care of himself and he most likely just got sick or something, I decided to text him anyways. <br/>Scott: Yo, bro you ok? You left your backpack at school and Malia is getting worried.<br/>I waited for a few minutes until I got a reply.<br/>Stiles: Scott?<br/>Ya man? I’m here.<br/>It’s Derek<br/>Derek? Why do you have Stiles’s phone?<br/>Well I was going by the old house when I found your “best friend” passed out from a seemingly panic attack in the forest.<br/>Jesus, is he ok now?<br/>Considering he was nearly hypothermic and probably out there for hours and he hasn’t woken up yet, I’d say no Scott. <br/>Gods.<br/>Where were you, by the way?<br/>School, where else. <br/>Well that’s never stopped you two from running out TOGETHER. <br/>Scott, you’re his alpha, human or not. But more importantly, you’re his best friend. I get everyone went through a lot, but he went through it all and he needs his best friend to help him get through it. <br/>R u at the loft.<br/>Yeah, where else.<br/>I’m on my way.<br/>I shoot the last text with my heart clenched. I can't believe I haven’t been there for him. For my brother. I’ve been so terrible since Allison died, but I can’t even begin to feel what he’s feeling. When you felt yourself doing everything terrible, the guilt must weigh on your shoulders like tons of rocks. <br/>I leave the school and get onto my motorcycle and head to Derek’s loft, vowing to never let my brother feel so alone again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’s POV<br/>I enter the kitchen and see Derek cooking. When I open my mouth to say something, he turns around and gives me a soft smile. <br/>“How are you feeling?” he asks.<br/>“Um, better now,” I reply, not really knowing what to say. “How’d you find me?”<br/>“Well I was going to the old Hale house when I smelled your extremely pungent smell.”<br/>I give a small chuckle and look down at the ground.<br/>“Stiles,” he starts, “tell me the truth. You’ve had two panic attacks in the last two days that I even know about. How bad is it?”<br/>“It used to be worse.” I try and joke but it obviously doesn’t amuse the werewolf. <br/>“Stiles.”<br/>“Okay, okay. Well I got them after my mom died but my dad took me to a therapist to help.” I look at Derek for a sign to go on and he simply nods. “After the whole sacrifice ritual to find the nemeton, well I started getting them again when it really affected all of us. Everything that was happening would set me off: when I couldn’t read whether it was from the letters being scrambled around or literally falling off the page, when my subconscious was trying to send me that stupid message, and all the other things that happened. <br/>“Those eventually went down when the Nogistune started taking over and I couldn’t remember where I’d been for days on end and then the nightmares started becoming my main focus. And now,” I paused, not sure what I wanted to tell him. All the stuff that happened before, people knew about. Isaac, Scott, Lydia, my dad, Allison. But everything that’s been happening recently, I’ve kept to myself. <br/>The crippling panic attacks that forced me to hurt myself to stop, the horrifying nightmares I had to scream myself awake from, and the fact that I was still seeing the Nogistune everywhere I went and I could hear him talking to me. Up until yesterday, no one knew anything. I could normally hold off the panic attacks until I was at least a little bit away from the rest of the pack but I couldn’t control it yesterday. <br/>“What about now, Stiles,” Derek says, pulling me out of my thoughts. <br/>I look up at him again and think, why should I tell him anything. He’s never cared before, why start now? “No, screw this. I don’t have to tell you anything. Thanks for everything but I’m leaving now.”<br/>I turn to walk towards the door as Derek grabs my wrist and I flinch, although as soon as I do I immediately regret it. “I saw your wrist, Stiles. You can fool everyone else but not me. You’re not okay, and you haven’t been for a while. Now you’re free to leave if you want, but your jeep is still where you parked it and Scott’s coming over soon so you might as well stay.”<br/>“You told Scott?” I started getting mad. He has no right to tell anyone anything. <br/>“Relax, all I told him was that I found you passed out in the forest from a panic attack. Anything else you want to tell him is up to you,” he says, glancing at my wrist. <br/>I shake my head, contemplating whether to stay or not when I finally decide I might as well. Don’t want to pass out trying to get to my jeep which is miles away. “Damn it, Derek.” I say after taking a seat on his ugly couch and start playing with my fingers. </p><p>Derek’s POV<br/>He sits down on the couch and I realize he’s decided to stay. “I made chicken parmesan if you want any.”<br/>“Not hungry,” he almost immediately replies. <br/>“Stiles, you’re underweight I hope you realize.”<br/>“I’ve always been, you’re point?” I’ve learned I can’t argue with the boy so I walk away to the kitchen to serve myself some of the food I stress cooked. <br/>Stiles, obviously, is still very broken from everything that happened, and all I can hope is that Scott can find some way to get through to him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott’s POV<br/>I’m about five minutes away from Derek’s loft when my phone starts ringing. I lift it up and see Malia’s calling me. Shit, she was the ones worried about Stiles and I just completely left her standing.<br/>I pick up the phone and say, “Hey, Malia.”<br/>“Where the hell are you?” she responds, wasting no time to get to the point.<br/>“Um, Derek called.”<br/>“And what was so important that you had to leave without telling anyone? Kira’s losing her mind over here.”<br/>I wonder what to say and end up simply saying, “Stiles.”<br/>“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry. Is he okay? Damn it I knew something was wrong. I should've tried harder to find him. He’s not hurt is he? Or, or. No, no way, he can’t be. You would have told me if that happened right?”<br/>“Malia,” I say, trying to cut off her rambling. “From what Derek told me, he’s fine. I’m not there yet and didn’t get much information from Derek over the phone but I’ll call you later with more details, okay?”<br/>“Where are you going? I’m coming too.”<br/>“No, Malia, from what I do know it’s best to not have too many people, okay?”<br/>“Scott, come one, you can’t stop me.”<br/>Knowing I can, I slightly growl into the phone, asserting my dominance and Malia slightly whimpers back.<br/>After a second, she finally says, “Okay, okay. Just call me if he’s really in trouble, okay? I might know more about certain things than you. I was in Eichen for a while and learned a lot of stuff, including about him.”<br/>“I will, I promise.” I say that with certainty, because no matter how much I fake it, I know she’s telling the truth and there are just certain things I can’t understand. “I gotta go now. I’ll call later. Bye.”<br/>She responds with “bye” right before I hang up and stop my motorcycle in front of Derek’s loft. </p><p>Derek’s POV<br/>I hear Scott’s bike and realize he’s finally here. Looking over at Stiles, it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed. He’s watching some cooking show on the TV and I take it as my que to go outside to talk to Scott before he talks to Stiles. <br/>I walk out and see Scott taking off his helmet and walking up.<br/>“Hey,” I say to him.<br/>“Um, hey,” he replies, not quite sure what to say. “So, is Stiles inside, or?”<br/>“Yeah, he is. But, I needed to talk to you first.”<br/>“Of course, about?”<br/>“This is gonna be kind of a lot so don’t freak out, okay?” I look at him as he’s confused for a second before nodding at me to go on. “Stiles isn’t okay. And he hasn’t been for a while. Even before the Nogistune. I hope you’re aware of the panic attacks and nightmares from when his mom died?”<br/>“Yeah, of course, those are kind of impossible to forget. But he got counseling and they mostly went away.”<br/>“Until the recent events. Stiles, Allison, and you were all affected by the same thing, just in different ways. Obviously Stiles had to deal with way more than either of you but did you ever stop to think why he was all of a sudden getting all these panic attacks and nightmares while neither you nor Allison were?<br/>“It’s because he never fully healed. And I don’t know if you’ve tried, but breaking something that’s been broken before and is still trying to heal makes it nearly impossible for it to ever get fixed again. I think that’s what’s happening here. Stiles never got over his mom, not truly anyways. The Nogistune just brought it all back up with everything else that has been going on too.”<br/>“Everything else?” Scott asks, seemingly confused.<br/>“Please don’t tell me you’re that blind. He blames himself for everything. From the sheriff’s station, to coach, to Barrow, to that sword in you, to Aiden and Allison. He thinks it’s all his fault. And no one has been there to tell him otherwise.”<br/>“What are you talking about? We've all said it’s not his fault!”<br/>“But did you really say it like you meant it, or did you just say it to make him feel better.” Scott looks broken and I add, “Look, I know you and everyone else doesn’t blame him, but at the beginning, for a brief second, you did. And that’s all it took for him to blame himself too.”<br/>Scott looks down on the ground as everything that’s been going on with Stiles slowly hits him. “Gods, what have we done.”<br/>“I don’t know. But now you have a chance to go in and fix it.”<br/>And with that, we both walk back into the loft, not even close to ready to face Stiles again.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’s POV<br/>I was mindlessly flipping through channels and barely heard a door open and close. If I was really trying to pay attention, I probably would have at least turned around and checked to see who was going in and out. If it was Scott, he would probably say something. <br/>I eventually put down the remote but it feels sort of, foreign? I started to realize what was happening and squeezed my hand, but didn’t really feel or register it. <br/>Shit. I was dissociating. This has happened multiple times and I learned some techniques to bring myself back but I couldn’t find the will to do it this time. I didn’t even realize it was happening, which I can do most of the time. <br/>It’s probably because of Scott and Derek, I decide. I barely even felt anything about the fact that Scott was actually coming here, but rather about the fact that Derek told him without my permission. I guess I was anxious and stressed or else this wouldn’t have happened. <br/>I think for a second, while my body picks up the remote and keeps clicking through channels, though I barely register it again. I can see myself doing it, can see myself clicking the buttons, but it’s like I’m not the one doing it. Like someone else is doing it for me and I can’t do anything but watch. It sort of feels like the Nogistune, but it’s too hard to really feel anything like this.<br/>I wonder if I should try and bring myself back or not, and decide against it. At least until I’m home and can let out everything there. Rather do it alone in my own house than in Derek’s loft with both Scott and Derek here to witness.<br/>After what feels, no, seems like seconds, I hear the door open again and feel a hand on my shoulder. Normally, this would have startled me, but fear is a feeling. I see myself turn my head around, and there is Scott. <br/>The rest of the encounter is sort of a blur. We talked, actually more like Scott talked to me. He didn’t really get much out of me and eventually just settled on driving me home. Maybe if I could pay attention, I would have realized that Scott stopped to talk to Derek and he ended up following us. <br/>I continued to say nothing and walked to his car. After, again, what seemed like seconds, we were suddenly at my house. Scott walked me to the door and I assume was about to follow me in, but I closed the door before he could. <br/>As soon as I realized he was gone, I could already start to feel myself coming back. I leaned to the back of the couch and grabbed onto it, making sure to really feel the couch, and how fake and smooth the leather felt. I focused on my feet on the floor; the strong, sturdy floor. I look outside a window and see the sun, the bright, shining sun. <br/>And then I was back. My breathing quickened as I slid down the back of the couch onto the floor. Dissociating helps when you’re in the actual situation but after, when the panic really sets in, it’s so much worse. <br/>I sit on the floor panting, trying and failing to slow my breathing. You would think that after all the panic attacks that I get that I would be able to stop them by now. Nope. I lean my head back and hope that it all passes before I pass out again.</p><p>Derek’s POV<br/>From the minute we walked back into the house, I could sense something was off. Scott may not have noticed it, but I definitely did. There was something about the way Stiles interacted and walked around, as if he wasn’t really there. <br/>It then hit me; this kid’s dissociating. Cora used to do it when she was younger and anxious about social situations. They mostly went away when she turned for the first time. <br/>But while they were going on, my mom taught me to look for the signs. It’s been a long time, but he was displaying them. His eyes were glazed over, his voice sounded different, and he just overall wasn’t acting like the Stiles I talked to less than 20 minutes ago. <br/>I pulled Scott to the side and talked to him. “I think he’s dissociating.”<br/>“He’s what?”<br/>“Dissociating. I’m not really sure how to explain it, but it can be pretty dangerous so I’m going to follow behind you guys to help him out when he gets home, okay?”<br/>“Are you sure? I can just try and help him. I could with his panic attacks when his mom died.”<br/>“No, dissociation is a lot different than that and I don’t think we have time to give you a crash course on how to help someone.”<br/>“Yeah okay.”<br/>So he drove to Stiles’s house, with me close behind him. When Stiles went inside, I pulled into his driveway and took Scott’s spare key with him after telling him to wait outside. I silently walked into his house to see Stiles gripping the couch and trying to feel the leather and looking around his surroundings. <br/>Okay, well at least he knows how to pull himself back. After a few seconds, he collapsed and sat on the floor, his breathing quickening. I heard Scott realize what was happening and was glad that he listened to me and stayed outside.<br/>I walked to Stiles and took a knee in front of him and started to try and calm him down. “Hey, hey. I’m here, it’s okay. You’re not alone anymore.”<br/>He looked at me, and even though it wasn’t much, his breathing did slow down the slightest bit.  He shook his head and looked down at the floor while I kept talking, “Hey, just focus on my voice, okay? Hey, hey, look at me.” I lifted his head up. “Breathe with me here. In. Out. In. Out.”<br/>After a few minutes, he finally calmed down. “Thanks.”</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Derek’s POV<br/>“Has that ever happened before?” I ask, cutting right to the chase. He doesn’t answer, so I sit down fully right down next to him. “Stiles.”<br/>“Gods, why do you care so much?” he says, and I’m taken aback from the remark. <br/>“What are you talking about?”<br/>“You never seemed to care before, so why start now?”<br/>“Stiles,” I start, but am cut off by him getting up and walking away and up the stairs. I debate whether or not to follow him up, but end up deciding against it. He obviously doesn’t want to talk so I might as well respect that. <br/>I was going to just leave, but realize Scott’s car is still parked outside and I don’t really feel like explaining everything to him. I walk back into the kitchen and start cooking, hoping that Stiles will be hungry this time. </p><p>Stiles’s POV<br/>I rushed upstairs, not wanting to face anyone, especially not Derek. He never knew me before, and even the months we have known each other, he’s never cared before. I realize I was a little harsh with him, but he doesn’t need to be around me like I’m a child. I know how to take care of myself. <br/>I am grateful that he didn’t talk to Scott though; that would not have gone well. He would have asked a million never-ending questions that I had no idea how to answer and he wouldn’t have left my side long enough for me to go to the bathroom. <br/>I plop down on my bed and just stare at the ceiling. I hear a car start outside and look out to see, shit, Scott. I immediately turn away from the window, praying that he didn’t see me. I figure Derek must have talked to him, if he had stayed that long. <br/>I then realize that Derek’s car is still in my driveway, meaning he’s still here. As if on cue, I hear food coming from downstairs. Really, Derek, again? I had hoped that me not eating before was enough for him to realize he shouldn’t push me. <br/>I know that I’m underweight, but with the number of times I throw up after panic attacks, it just became easier to stop eating all together. I mentally sigh and turn over in my bed. <br/>Hey, if I’m sleeping, he can’t make me talk...or eat. And with that, I close my eyes and try to sleep, hoping that I can finally sleep for a little without being awoken by nightmares.<br/>After around ten minutes, I feel myself slipping into the depths of sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Derek’s POV<br/>I finish cooking, which was surprisingly hard due to there being virtually no food in their house. I guess it does make sense, though, which the Sheriff never really home to eat and Stiles seemingly never eating either. I turn off the stove and lay out the food onto their table. I was about to set the table when I started to hear a frantic heartbeat coming from upstairs.<br/>I ran up, but didn’t smell anyone else, which helped my wolf side suppress. I opened the door to see Stiles tossing and turning around in his bed, covered in sweat. A nightmare. I turn on his fan as I walk towards his bed and sit on the bed.<br/>“No, no, no please, not again.” He starts sleep talking and I know I should wake him up, but I want to know what has made this poor boy suffer so much. <br/>“I can’t do it.”<br/>“Just let her go, please!”<br/>“A shadow?”<br/>“I don’t know!”<br/>“What the hell is happening to me?”<br/>“It is now.”<br/>“I remember pushing that sword into you.”<br/>“I’m straight up losing my mind.”<br/>“I don’t know where I am.”<br/>“It was me.”<br/>“Leave me alone!” <br/>With all those, I figured he was suffering with some sort of PTSD with everything that happened to him. I can’t believe he’s still even here to be honest. There are only a few people who could have gone through what he did and come through the other side. <br/>“Not again, no, I won’t let you, not this time.”<br/>He woke up with a start, panting and trying to catch his breath. His head was in his hand when I reached over and started rubbing his back.<br/>He flinched and pulled away at the touch. He looked at me; “Derek?”<br/>“Yeah, I’m here.”<br/>“Why?”<br/>“To be honest, I don’t know why everyone else isn’t, Stiles. We all care so much about you, even if you don’t know it.”<br/>“Yeah, totally,” he scoffs. “Can you, just like, leave me alone, please?”<br/>“Sure, but I or anyone or even everyone else will be here if you want.”<br/>I stand up and walk out of the room. As I’m about to close the door, I turn and see Stiles’s head back in his hands and hear a quiet sob escape. <br/>I get back downstairs and grab my phone. I create a new group chat with the entire pack, but without Stiles, and text:<br/>Derek: pack meeting 2nite at the loft, get there asap<br/>Lydia: why, did something bad happen<br/>Derek: sort of<br/>Kira: okay you’re officially scaring us<br/>Kira: what happened<br/>Derek: it’s about stiles</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lydia’s POV<br/>After school let out, we all rushed to his loft. His cryptic text gave away virtually no information but if it’s about Stiles we were probably all in big trouble. After everything that happened, I noticed him slowly drifting away from the pack, but no one else said anything so I had assumed nothing was wrong. Let’s hope my assumption didn’t lead to him getting hurt, or worse. <br/>No, if Stiles was hurt, we would be going to the hospital, or at least Deaton’s. We had taken one car with Malia and Scott in the front and me and Kira in the back. We used to have to take two or three cars, but that changed a while ago. <br/>No one said a single word until we were around five minutes from Derek’s.<br/>“So,” Kira started, “do any of you have any idea what this is about?” Malia and Scott looked at each other but didn’t say anything. <br/>“You guys know something,” I said.<br/>“No, all we know is what Derek said,” Malia replied.<br/>“You guys are lying, I can tell,” I responded. <br/>Scott looked at Malia again and waited a few seconds before saying, “Okay, fine. Something did happen today.”<br/>When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “And?”<br/>Scott sighed. “Well, Malia noticed his backpack was still here but neither him nor his jeep were. I assumed he had just gotten sick and forgot about his backpack but Derek texted me later saying to meet him at his loft. Apparently he found Stiles alone, out in the forest passed out from a panic attack.”<br/>“What?” I exclaimed. “He told us that was the only one he had had in a while.”<br/>“Well, he lied. Anyways, I got to Derek’s and Stiles was there, but not really there. I didn’t know what to think of it until a few minutes later when we were ready to leave and Derek pulled me to the side, saying Stiles was dissociating. Don’t ask, I’m not sure. Pretty much, Derek followed us home and told me to leave and he would take care of it but that’s all I know.” <br/>“Well shit man,” Kira said, and I had to agree. “Why didn’t you say anything?”<br/>“I didn’t know what Stiles or Derek would want me telling you.”<br/>Then, we pulled up to Derek’s loft and none of us were really ready for what was about to happen. <br/>Derek’s POV<br/>I spent the entire time waiting for the rest of the pack wondering what I wanted to tell them. I know Stiles would forever hate me if I told them about his self harm, so I’ll probably skip out on telling them about that.<br/>But they do have to know about all the panic attacks and especially the dissociation. If he was able to pull himself back, he’s definitely experienced it multiple times before. <br/>A while later, the door slides open and everyone walks in at once. <br/>“Derek?” Lydia is the first to speak. “What happened? Is Stiles okay?”<br/>They all looked at me worried and scared for their pack member. “For now.”<br/>“What does that mean, for now?” Malia says next.<br/>“I’m going to need you guys to listen to me for this one.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles’s POV<br/>I was in bed when I heard my phone ring the familiar ring, signalling I had gotten a text. I honestly can’t remember the last time I heard that sound. No one ever really needs me anymore.<br/>I turn over to my side and reach for my phone, which causes me strain due to the lack of food in my body. It’s a text from what seems to be a group chat with the pack and I wonder if they’ve always had this but have neglected to add me into it until now.<br/>Lydia: hey stiles, just wanted to let you know we’re here for you, always<br/>Scott: ya man, no matter when or where, we’ll be there<br/>Malia: always<br/>From the cryptic line of texts, I could only assume one thing; Derek told them. Told them about the panic attacks, the dissociation, the not eating, the...gods the cutting. I got up out of bed and walked over to my bathroom.<br/>I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I saw my eyes tearing up and puffy in the mirror. All of a sudden, I just got, got mad. Mad at Derek for telling them. Mad at the pack for not realizing sooner. But mostly mad at myself for letting them find out in the first place. I yelled and with one broad stroke hit everything off my sink. <br/>Then I started sobbing. How can one person have so many tears? My hands were on either side of my sink and I looked up at the mirror when it got even worse.<br/>The Nogitsune was back. Again. <br/>“All your fault, Stiles. Now they have to waste their time worrying about you. You don’t need it, do you, Stiles. Or are you really as weak as they all see you as?”<br/>“No!” I screamed. My back slid down the wall and suddenly I was sitting with my knees supporting my head in my hands. <br/>“Stiles, they shouldn’t have to waste another second worrying about you. Make them stop worrying. They don’t need you. No one does.”<br/>As I was sitting, I couldn’t help but agree. Who would really care? No one. If anything it would save them a lot of trouble.<br/>I stood back up. I wiped away my tears and splashed my face with water. I grabbed my pill bottle of Adderall and went downstairs to grab some vodka from my dad’s collection. They always say you should never drink on medication, right?<br/>I also grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it: sorry.<br/>I couldn’t find myself to write more so I folded it up, wrote my dad’s name on the front, and left it on the counter. I made sure to check his calender and, yup, he wouldn’t be here for a few hours if he didn’t take the night shift. <br/>I walked back up, feeling strangely foregin again, although not quite pulled away from my body. Sort of aware this would be the last time walking up these stairs that I grew up on. No, I can’t do memories right now. There are too many bad ones.<br/>I grabbed the pills, vodka, and a blade and sat on the floor of my bathroom. I took a few pills, took a swing of vodka, then made a nice long, deep slice on my wrist. <br/>Repeated this until the bottle of pills was empty. Repeated this until there was no more vodka left and I felt like I was flying. Repeated this until you could barely see any skin on my wrists anymore. Repeated this until the darkness found me. </p><p>Derek’s POV<br/>I was so tempted to go back to Stiles and just check on him. Even just see his face. But the pack agreed it would be good to give him some time alone. <br/>But nevertheless, I did make sure to text the Sheriff, asking him to try and get home earlier today to check on Stiles.<br/>He asked why, and I simply told him it was a tough day and school and with the pack and he was avoiding us all. He said he would try to get home as soon as possible, so I took that as a win and decided to go to sleep. It had been a long day after all.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noah’s POV<br/>I had planned on staying a little longer and getting the overtime money to help pay for the MRI and Eichen house stay. I realize I had been doing this a lot more recently, but Stiles never said anything about it so I just have been hoping that he understands. <br/>However, when Derek, of all people, texts me asking to check up on Stiles, I could sense something was wrong. The little time I spent with Stiles, I noticed things were off. He had been getting paler and thinner. The simplest things set him off or made him exhausted. I had hoped it had to do with the whole Nogistune thing or something supernatural he couldn’t tell me about. He had always been able to talk to me about everything else before. <br/>I left as soon as I could, which ended up being around 25 minutes later. I pulled up to the driveway and Stiles’s jeep wasn’t there.<br/>I texted Derek.<br/>Noah: Is he even home?<br/>Derek: He should be.<br/>His jeep isn’t here.<br/>Oh ya, we dropped him off. His jeep is around the old Hale house.<br/>Oh, ok.<br/>Confused as to what was going on, I walked inside. <br/>“Hey, Stiles?” I yelled, but got no response. I took of my coat and shoes and walked up the stairs. “Stiles? You here?” I got to his door and knocked but got no answer. <br/>After a few seconds, I opened the door and didn’t see Stiles anywhere. But I did notice the bathroom light was on. <br/>I knocked on that door and again got no response. I tried opening it, but the door was locked. Getting worried, I said, “Stiles, you better open this door right now or I will.” I looked down and noticed a tint of something from under the crack of the door.<br/>I bent down and touched something wet under the door. When I pulled my hand back, it was all red. “Shit. Stiles!” I continued banging on the door. Not knowing where Stiles was in the bathroom and not wanting to accidentally slam the door into him, furthering whatever injuries he already has, I rushed out of the room and grabbed the universal key for all the locks in the house. <br/>I rushed back to his room, panicking, wondering what had gone wrong. I opened the door and my heart broke. Stiles was passed out on the floor, which was covered with blood as well as his wrists. Next to him lay an empty pill bottle and an empty bottle of vodka. <br/>What happened next was sort of a blur. All I know was that I called 911 and was praying to anything or anyone to not take my son away from me. I can’t survive without this kid, even if he drives me insane sometimes. <br/>The next I knew was in the waiting room, my knee bouncing non stop. A doctor came out and I immediately stood up. He walked over to me and said, “He’s stable, for now. But the overdose with the combination of alcohol caused damage to his liver but we won’t know how extensive it is until he wakes up.”<br/>“What, so he’ll need a transplant?”<br/>“Either that or a piece of a liver donated by someone with the same blood type.”<br/>I sat back down, trying to process the information. How the hell did this happen?</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott’s POV<br/>It was the day after Derek had given up all the “debriefing” on Stiles. I walked down stairs to see my mom sitting at the table with her head in her hands. If it weren’t for my supernatural hearing then I wouldn’t have heard her crying.<br/>“Hey, mom, what happened?” I asked.<br/>She looked up at me with puffy eyes and a sad, sad expression. “Oh, honey.”<br/>“What, what is it?”<br/>“It’s Stiles, sweetie.”<br/>Oh gods. “What happened? Is he hurt?”<br/>“Stiles overdosed last night.”<br/>I stumbled backwards. No, there’s no way. He was perfectly fine before. Okay, maybe not perfect but not at the point where he would kill himself, right? Right?<br/>I ran out of the house and just ran and ran, not knowing where I was going. Somehow, I ended up at Derek’s house. I walked up to his loft and started banging on the door. It only took a few seconds for Derek to come, clearly not happy about someone banging on his door this early in the morning. <br/>However, his expression changed the minute he saw my face, covered in tears. “Hey, hey Scott, what happened?”<br/>I tried to tell him but no words came out. All I could do was sob. Derek led me to his couch and sat me down before going to get me water. I gulped it down, not realizing earlier how thirsty I was from both the run and the amount of tears I had shed. “You ready to talk yet?”<br/>I paused. How am I supposed to tell him this? “Stiles, he um, apparently tried killing himself last night.”<br/>Derek’s concerned face from before broke. It looked like how my mom did earlier. I knew it was taking all his willpower to not break down right then and there. I guess he figured someone needs to be stable in all this. “Do you know how?”<br/>“Overdose, I think.”<br/>“That’s it?”<br/>“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay to listen to the rest.” I realized that I knew nothing other than the fact that he was alive, for now. Was he going to stay that way? “I can, um, log into my mom’s account to get his records.”<br/>“Yeah, okay.” He stood up and got his laptop. When I signed in and viewed Stiles’s file, it was even worse than I thought.<br/>“Shit,” Derek said, speaking for both of us. Not only had Stiles tried to overdose, he also downed an entire bottle of vodka adding to the overdose and had excessive blood loss from cuts on his wrists. “This is all my fault.”<br/>I knew this was my turn to be the stable one. “What are you talking about? None of us could have known this was going to happen.”<br/>“I knew.”<br/>“What are you talking about?” I didn’t believe Derek knew he was going to kill himself and he was as surprised as I was when I told him the news. <br/>“I had a bad feeling from the minute I left his house. And, gods, I knew about his cuts.”<br/>“You knew and you didn’t tell us?”<br/>“I thought that was one piece of information that truly wasn’t mine to tell.” There was a moment where no one talked. “Does the file say anything else? Is he stable?”<br/>I grabbed the laptop again. “Um, he’s stable for now but he’s probably going to need part of someone else’s liver soon.”<br/>“Is his dad a donor?”<br/>“Yeah, I think so. Stiles has given blood to him before when he was hurt and there was a blood shortage a while ago.” I paused. Is that the only time Stiles donated something? “Oh, shit.”<br/>“What? Is there something else?” Derek, assuming I saw something on the file, grabbed the laptop. But it wasn’t that.<br/>“Stiles donated part of his liver to his dad before. His dad won’t be able to donate any of his.”<br/>“So, Stiles not only can’t get it from his dad, but probably not from any other alive human as he needs too much. Great.”<br/>“Wait. We can regenerate. What if one of us donates?”<br/>“I thought Stiles came up with the good plans.”<br/>“I have my moments.” We laughed. It was a nice relief even if it was the worst possible timing to be cracking jokes. <br/>We sort of just sat in silence until I saw Derek’s face scrunch up in confusion. “Gods, what this time?”<br/>“Stiles hasn’t been eating.”<br/>“What are you talking about? He eats like a horse.”<br/>“No, I know for a fact he hasn’t eaten in at least two days and probably longer. Do you think that’s important?”<br/>“I mean probably.” I grabbed the laptop again and scanned his file for anything that mentioned him being underweight. “They don’t know about it.”<br/>“We’ve got to get to the hospital. Now.”</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. 15</h2></a>
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    <p>Derek’s POV<br/>We rushed to get into the car and I vaguely remember telling Scott to text the pack to meet at the hospital. When they asked questions, we didn’t say anything more. We got there and found the sheriff sitting in the waiting room. Scott goes up to talk to him. I could have listened in, but decided against it as this was something that deserved privacy, even if I was dying to know what they were talking about. <br/>After a short conversation, Scott motions for me to come over. Reluctantly, I do but have no idea what to say to the man. ‘Hey, I could have stopped this but decided to keep it a secret. Nice to see you again.’<br/>Instead, I just give him a small smile and he returns one back. Thankfully, a nurse soon walks over and says that it’s okay to go in and see him now and we all start walking to the room when Scott stops me. <br/>“Dude, we still have to tell the doctor,” he reminds me. <br/>“Shit, okay,” I respond. “Do you want to or should I?”<br/>He thinks for a second before saying, “No, I’ll go tell my mom. It’ll be easier that way.” I give him a nod before he goes off, trying to find Melissa. We eventually get to the room, and my heart stops when I see Stiles.<br/>He’s lying in a bed, intubated with a tube down his throat and so many other wires and gadgets connected to him, trying to keep him alive. The heart monitor beeps steadily besides him, but too slow to be healthy. <br/>I guess we were in there for a while because Scott comes in after what feels like seconds. I turn to him and he looks as broken as all of us. Trying to break the tension, I ask, “What did your mom say?”<br/>He’s still in shock from seeing Stiles like this, so it takes him a second to process my question. Finally, he answers, “Um, she said she’ll tell the other doctors and we can all get tested to see if we have the same blood type as him.”<br/>“Do you want to go do that now?”<br/>Scott looks at me, thankful that he doesn’t have to witness the always cheerful human, the one always there for everyone,  his best friend like this any longer. I know he blames himself, and I do too. “Yeah, sure.”<br/>We leave the room, but Noah doesn’t seem to notice anything happening. He’s just been sitting in a chair next to Stiles’s bed holding his hand. <br/>Eventually, we find Melissa and she takes us to get blood drawn, and we just pray that one of us will be a match.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. 16</h2></a>
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    <p>Malia’s POV<br/>I don’t know much except for the fact that we got a text saying Stiles was in the hospital. If it weren’t for Lydia, I probably would have just been stuck standing in the middle of my doorway. We made it to the hospital in record time, and it’s honestly a miracle that we weren’t stopped by cops. <br/>I’m also not sure what happened when we got to the hospital. Lydia seemed to be keeping it together more than me, so she talked to a nurse or doctor or something. I vaguely remember being taken to a separate room to get blood drawn before eventually entering Stiles’s room. <br/>Everyone was there: Scott, Derek, Noah, Kira, Lydia, me, and, gods, Stiles. He looked so fragile and small. People always say how small people look in hospital beds, but I didn’t actually believe it until now. Before I knew it, my back was up against a wall and I was sliding down to the floor, sobbing. <br/>For gods sake it was Stiles, of all people, Stiles. He wasn’t supposed to be the broken one. The rest of us were broken and he always knew it. He always noticed, always helped, no matter what. But as I sat there on the floor of his hospital room, I realized I had no idea how to help him. <br/>Stiles, my first love, even if I hadn’t admitted it. He helped me through everything: turning back to human, adjusted to everything I missed, freaking math, and he was my first everything after I transformed back. My first friend, my first kiss, my first time, and what had I done to return the favor? Squat. <br/>All I knew in that moment, as I looked at Stiles, I swore to never let him feel so alone again. <br/>						… <br/>A little while later, Mrs. McCall walked in with a small smile on her face. <br/>“Mom,” Scott started, “did the results come back?” I wasn’t really sure about what he was talking about but I assumed it had to do with the blood being drawn from earlier. <br/>“Yeah, they did,” she replied.<br/>“So, is anyone a match?”<br/>Her face lit up as much as it could in this solemn situation. “Yes.”<br/>“Really? Who?”<br/>She turned to me. “Malia is.” <br/>Scott, Derek, Lydia, Kira, and Noah all let out a breath but I was still confused. “Wait, what am I a match for?”<br/>“Did you not listen before?” Lydia asked me. I frowned. Lydia took that as a no, so she said, “Stiles needed a liver transplant to replace the amount of damage he did.”<br/>“So, I’m giving him my liver?” I’m not really up to date with modern medicine, so I was still confused.<br/>“Not all of it,” Melissa responded this time. “We’re not really sure the extent of your werewolf healing, so we’re going to leave a bit left so it can regenerate itself. Otherwise he would have been put on the transplant list but probably wouldn’t have gotten a new liver in time.”<br/>I was still a little confused on how this was all going to work, but didn’t ask anymore questions. I was just glad that Stiles would live.</p><p>a few months later - stiles’s pov<br/>After I woke up in the hospital, I was sort of relieved that I wasn’t dead. I was surrounded by the people I love, who I finally accepted loved me. I learned Malia had given up most of her liver for me, even if it would grow back. <br/>I had to stay in the ICU for a while, recovering from the surgery and everything else I did. They had me on suicide watch for the first week, which I find a little excessive, but I got it. Everyone came as often as they could. I was also talking to a therapist everyday, and when I was finally stable enough to not have to stay in the ICU anymore, they decided it was best if I went to a psychiatric facility. <br/>I was trying to get better, I really was, even if it was hard beyond compare. I was diagnosed with depression and CPTSD which took over as the main focus for most of the time. They quickly noticed how I wasn’t comfortable around food so I also had to be treated for that. I dissociated once, and they had a quick eye for that, so add it to the list. I would still have panic attacks whenever I saw the Nogitsune, but those became less and less frequent. Ms. Merell, Dr. Deaton’s sister and the old school counsellor who also worked at Eichen for a little, came to be my therapist per request by Derek. It did end up being beneficial, as I could openly talk about the supernatural world and the role it played without having to make up some other story. <br/>Everyone also visited every day we had visitors, and it was nice. Malia’s liver had grown back, which still amazes me to this day. Much to my surprise, Jackson and Ethan came back, together. That’s something I would not have foretold. Isaac came back as soon as he found out what happened. Scott now had a beta, and he was actually pretty cool. Also, Theo from fourth grade turned out to be a werewolf but also evil, which I feel I could have predicted if it weren’t for my...condition. But he eventually switched sides, sort of like Peter. Even all of them visited, even though they had no idea any of this was happening. <br/>To be honest, it was a rough few months, but I eventually got through it and was cleared to go home. My dad started working less. Everyone in the pack started keeping a closer eye on me, which they think I didn’t notice, but did. Like, come one, it’s me. I did have to take a lot of different medications but my dad always laid them out for me and never told me where he kept them, even though I did know. I know he was just scared of my attempting again, so I went along and pretended to not know. I was also following a strict diet plan, which everyone, not just my dad, made sure I followed. Even Peter would get mad if I left a little bit of food on my plate. I ate breakfast with Dad every morning, lunch with the pack at school, and ate dinner with either the pack or Dad, depending on the day. Oh, also, Malia and I weren’t exactly together while I was in the hospital, but got back together the minute I got out. <br/>You can say this whole thing brought us all closer, which was definitely not the outcome I thought was going to happen, but anything can happen when your best friend is a werewolf. <br/>There were definitely a few relapses along the way, and I knew more were bound to come, but at least for now, I was happy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope y'all enjoyed this story. I wrote it a while ago and I don't think I proof read it the first time but honestly I'm too lazy to do that now. Anyways, I know the ending somewhat sucked but at the time I didn't really know how to end it and this was the best way I could come up with. There may or may not be a few more chapters in the future about times he relapsed but I wouldn't expect that anytime soon lol</p>
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